Home for Christmas
by WolfsbaneStorm5023
Summary: John goes into the army a year out of uni, leaving his best friend and lover at home. And even when a bullet to the shoulder puts him on the fast track home, it doesn't appear that he'll be home for the holidays. Omegle roleplay, myself being John.
1. Chapter 1

**I OWN NONE OF THE THINGS IN THE THING.**

John sighed loudly, bored out of his mind. He'd been shot a mere fourteen hours ago, and now he was sitting in a hospital bed in an army base in Afghanistan. He'd called Mrs. Hudson when he'd gotten the room after trying to call Sherlock about eight times. His flatmate hadn't answered. Not that he'd really expected him to. After assuring his landlady that he was alright, he'd hung up with the promise that she'd inform Sherlock and have him call the base. Sherlock still had yet to return his call.

Sherlock, instead of returning Johns call like a responsible human being, was pacing the floor of his (their?) flat, running his hands through his hair. Will John be alright? When will they send him home, would he every get to see him again? Sherlock's hand hovered over the phone.

John sighed once more, picking up a book the nurse had supplied him with. He tried to read, but couldn't seem to focus, the words bluring on the page. With a groan, he tossed the book across the room and turned carefully, deciding to try and sleep. Sherlock picked up the phone, dialling the number he had memorized. "John...?"

The blond jumped as the phone went off, his arm twisting the wrong way in his hurry to turn and pick up. pressing the button with shaky hands, he put the device to his ear. He let out a breath when Sherlock's voice greeted him, and he smiled. "Hey, Lock."

Sherlock couldn't help but let a tear run down his face in relief. "I knew I shouldn't have let you go, John. Did they tell you when they're sending you home?" He asked, his voice a bit shakey

"A few weeks." he grinned, leaning back on his pillow. "It'd be sooner, but I got an infection soon after, so it'll have to clear up first."

"It's nice to hear you smile. Oh, God that must have sounded odd!" Sherlock said, allowing himself to sit down.

"A little." the blond admitted with a laugh. "It's good to hear you too, Lock. I missed you."

"I was just thinking the same thing" Sherlock replied. "I'll be glad to have you home. The sooner the better."

"Agreed." John grinned. "I can't wait to get back to 221b. Though I'll probably sleep the first whole week, though."

"As long as I know your safe. You have to go, don't you?" This was the part Sherlock hated: each of the men or women on the base got one 20 minute phone call a day. To Sherlock, 20 years, much less 20 minutes wouldn't be long a long enough time to spend with John.

"Yeah, in a minute or two." John frowned. "I'll call you tomorrow, though. And you'd better pick up, you arse." he teased good-naturedly.

"I know" he said with an evident grin "but when you hear that one of the people you love the most has been shot, you get a little...apprehension about calling them."

John beamed, cradling his phone like he was holding Sherlock in his hands. "I love you too, Sherlock. I'll be home soon." he vowed.

"I love you, sleep well." Sherlock said.

John had been about to reply when the phone line went dead. Twenty minutes were up. With a sigh, he put the phone on the nightstand, laying back down with a sigh. _Three weeks, John._

Sherlock smiled. Three weeks, a month, and it would be almost Christmas. He looked at the dead phone in his hand. "It may sound cliche, but the only thing I want for Christmas...is you."

It took John forever to fall asleep, thoughts and memories keeping him awake. Finally, he began to doze, images of the brilliant man dancing behind his eyelids.


	2. Chapter 2

**I STILL OWN NOTHING. If I did, Johnlock would be cannon.**

The next day, Sherlock was sitting on the couch, waiting for his phone to ring.

John called Sherlock eagerly, knowing he would have slightly less time to speak with him. But it would be worth it later on. He smiled as the phone began ringing.

"JOHN!" Sherlock said as he picked up the phone. "How are you feeling?"

John had to pull back a little at the loud greeting, laughing as he brought the phone back to his face. "Doing better, despite having my eardrum nearly blown out just now." he teased.

"Sorry, the phone scared me. I honestly didn't think it was going to ring." Sherlock replied, happy that John was going to be fine. "Is it getting cold where you are? I've already lost three pairs of gloves, and I think that's a record."

"It's Afghanistan, Sherlock. I don't think cold exists here." he chuckled. "Even if it did, I'm not being allowed outside. The nurses won't let me leave the room."

"I know, I figured it didn't get cold. Does it at least rain a bit?"

"Once in a while." he shrugged. "As in, once every few months. I'm going to need to bathe in lotion when I get home, that's how dry my skin's gotten."

"Oh God, not that awful stuff you bought last time that smells like burning hair!" Sherlock said, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Well I'm not going to use that 'citrus surprise' crap you gave your brother for Christmas two years back." he retorted with a grin.

"Oh God that one smelt like straight alcohol. And don't judge me, I'm not the best at gift giving!" Sherlock said.

John laughed, really wanting to hold Sherlock right now. "I know, I was just saying. I'll find something." he smiled. "But moving on, how're things going on your end? Any interesting cases lately?"

"The most interesting this around here was a supposed suicide murder. They honestly just accidentally fell of a bridge. Our police force belongs in a soap opera!" Sherlock said, smiling.

"Oh God! That's just sad!" John laughed. "How long did they actually think it was a murder?"

"Going on two weeks" Sherlock replied. "It wasn't nearly as fun to solve without you here, though." Sherlock said, his voice faltering.

John's smile softened and his eyes cast down. "Yeah, well, I've missed running around in back alleys, chasing murderers with my favourite sociopath." he replied softly. The timer went off, alerting the pair that their were only five minutes left in the call. John hoped Sherlock wouldn't notice that it was going off about five minutes early.

"It doesn't feel like its been fifteen minutes" Sherlock said "but it's been fifteen minutes well spent."

"Agreed." John smiled, letting out a tiny sigh of relief. "I miss you so much."

"I wish I could hold you, John. I miss you so much. I can't wait until you get back." He breathed. "I love you."

"I love you too. I'll be home before you know it, you'll see." he replied, a silent tear sliding down his face.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow. P-please don't cry John." Sherlock said, and the phone went dead in his hand less than a second later.

John felt another tear escape as his hand dropped to his lap, phone still clutched tightly. Home before he knew it, indeed.

Sherlock sat blankly on the couch, and stared out the window. He had waited, at times, months, even years, for John to get home. But all he could think about was a day, three weeks, six days, and seven hours until he would see him again.

**~Two weeks later~**

Sherlock was, one again, waiting on the damned couch for the phone to ring, no matter how much he wanted John to walk through the door, he wasn't going to. Still a week, at least, possibly more John had said.

John smiled as he met Molly at the airport, greeting her with a smile. His arm was still in a sling, but he (Well, Molly,) had managed to convince the medical team to Let John out early. It was still a few days before Christmas, but it was never too early for a gift. Molly took John back to 221b, shooting off a text to Sherlock.

_Got your gift early. Left it at the door. Happy Christmas. MH_

_You too. SH._

Sherlock sent Molly a reply, making a mental note to send her a bouquet of carnations. He hauled himself off the couch, phone in hand, and opened the door.

John tightened his hold on his duffel, smiling as the door opened. "You may not be very good at gifts, but Molly seems to know what she's doing."

Sherlock a jaw dropped. "But you said...you know what? I'm not going to question it." He said, gingerly hugging John, afraid to hurt him.

John smiled, putting his good arm around Sherlock and holding him tightly. "Happy christmas, love."

Sherlock cupped johns face in his hands. "Merry Christmas to you too" he said, and kissed him deeply.


End file.
